"Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night. He was smiling under his heavy mustache, and his head was a little on one side as he looked at her. " "Don't say so," cried Mrs. ‘It is in truth you?’ ‘Of course it is I. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. He had been very easy or she had been very lucky. .
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